


Love Was Accidental

by woncarnation



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Model Jeon Wonwoo, Mutual Pining, explicitly stated because both of them are dense someone help them, wedding photography, where is the best friends to lovers tag!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28290828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woncarnation/pseuds/woncarnation
Summary: Wonwoo, in his well-earned break, has planned to do every mundane thing people do during the holidays: sleep in until the sun is high in the sky, binge movies until he’s one with his couch, and, of course, have a wedding photography with his best friend.“We’ve been putting this off for quite a while, haven’t we?”
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu
Comments: 3
Kudos: 135





	Love Was Accidental

**Author's Note:**

> Dearest kak ve, happy birthday ❤️
> 
> Please enjoy this little warm fic with nothing but fluff courtesy of a youtube video I discovered at 3 am. Emphasis on warm because Mingyu being warm? My absolute favourite thing to write (seriously I need someone to stop me).
> 
> Title from All For You - Years & Years

Some things can be categorised as unwritten laws in the universe. This particular one is an almost comical reoccurrence: work finds its way to you in the most unfortunate times, often when you’re not expecting it, nor welcoming of it.

Wonwoo used to consider himself exempt from this law, for he almost always expect work to trip him on every corner around this time of year. Breaks never come easy when you aren’t bound to any set schedules, after all. Holidays devoid of meaning, no scattered reds on his calendar—the work he has received are always unexpected, and thus, they’re always _expected_.

But through a series of self-imposed regulations and the constant, considerate insistence of his manager, Wonwoo now sits on his sofa, legs tucked in underneath him, schedule cleared up for the next month.

It’s only the second day and he’s been generous in accepting the suggestions given to him. He recounts it, checking the boxes as he lists them in his mind: order a nice meal, watch a movie he likes, read the book he’s been putting off for so long, so on and so forth. The first one was rather easy to follow and yet the next two falls short, no matter how much effort he put in to unwind, to loosen the tautness in his shoulders—it’s difficult when his mind stays abuzz. His eyes stayed at the window of his apartment instead.

Wonwoo follows the first snowfall with his hands, tapping down on his thigh with every new bulb of white he can see. And as though an early premonition, the unexpected snowfall brings an unanticipated opportunity in its wake.

An intruding vibration from his coffee table halts the thrum of his fingers, movie long forgotten as he stares, blank, at the lit-up display of his phone. Wonwoo pauses the movie, more of a formality rather than a necessity.

It takes a minute for him to pick up his phone, screen now back to blankness as no more notifications came in.

_23:42_  
_**Mingyu**_  
are you still awake?

_23:55_  
_**Wonwoo**_  
I am  
Is something wrong?

Wonwoo waits, thinks Mingyu must’ve fallen asleep when the ‘1’ doesn’t disappear a few seconds after he replied. Much to his delight, he’s proven wrong when his phone vibrates again.

_23:57_  
_**Mingyu**_  
everything is fine  
better than fine, actually  
anyway, you don’t have any schedule until next year, right?

_**Wonwoo**_  
You tell me  
You seem to remember my schedule more than I do.

_**Mingyu** _  
i absolutely don’t  
…maybe I do  
but yeah, no more schedules until after new years?

_**Wonwoo**_  
No more schedules until after new years.  
What’s up?

_**Mingyu** _  
i don’t know if you remember  
but my studio’s supposed to launch a new service by the end of this year  
◦ ◦ ◦

Wonwoo huffs, races his fingers against the tree dots before they disappear.

_**Wonwoo**_  
Of course I remember.  
You’re trying out wedding photography, right?

_**Mingyu** _  
◦ ◦ ◦  
yeah, that!  
you really do remember it

 _ **Wonwoo**_  
I don’t know what kind of person you take me for.  
I would never forget such an important and big project.

Mingyu doesn’t reply for a while after, and Wonwoo wonders if he’s said anything wrong seeing as his message has been read. Scrolling up, Wonwoo rereads every single message he sent, phone light harsh against his eyes in the dim lighting. Nothing stands out to him and he sighs, takes his glasses off to rub throbbing soreness on both his eyes.

Multiple people have sent congratulatory messages yesterday, ones that seem frivolous as Wonwoo doesn’t think a mere year-end break is deserving of such anticipation—has he been working too hard? Perhaps, but the buzz of barely contained restlessness in his hands say otherwise.

As he rises to his feet, his phone lights up again, ringtone chiming in the quiet of his apartment. Mingyu’s name flashes on his screen and without thought, the corner of Wonwoo’s lips curl up at the dog and heart emoji besides the younger’s name. An effort to make his contact list less boring, as Mingyu said.

“Hello?”

“Hyung! About the project, uh,” Mingyu trails off.

“Do you need any help?” Wonwoo prods, a ghost of an idea forming in his mind.

This is his supposed break: he’s promised to spend the end of the year with friends, no more jobs until the first buds of spring starts to kick in. Wonwoo intends to fulfil his own promise, the process of rejecting any incoming job made easier with his manager buffering all of the requests.

Mingyu’s laughs is distorted through his speaker, almost robotic. “You know me too well. But yes, since it’s only a soft launch I figure I should ask my circle for help first,” he says, almost sheepish. “If you don’t mind, would you model for me?”

It isn’t the first time, Wonwoo has had plenty of opportunities of working with Mingyu. It isn’t new, but hesitance gripes him, has him licking his lips before pressing them into a thin line.

On any other instance, he wouldn’t think twice on assisting Mingyu, the debt and fondness he has for the photographer overcoming the pain of having to work, even during the coldest of winters. But his answer doesn’t take long to make itself known.

“I know you’re just starting your break and I know you hate shooting in the cold. I’m sorry, you don’t have to do this if you— “

“All right.”

“What?”

"I said all right. I’ll do it, Mingyu, you don’t have to worry.”

The faint thump makes it as though Mingyu has abandoned his phone, but the following cheer, distant and muted, confirms his guess. It takes a while for Mingyu’s voice to find him again. “Thank you. You’re the best, hyung.”

Wonwoo hums, “This means i have to pose with another person, right?”

“I planned for individual shoots as well but it’s wedding photography—” Another pause as Mingyu seems to contemplate. There’s a rustle, the sound of a marker gliding on paper, smoothness against roughness. “Would it be better if the other person was me?”

“Uh.” Wonwoo’s words died out at the tip of his tongue, lost. He walks over to his window, watching as his breath condensates, obscuring the bulbs of snow falling outside. “I don’t think you need to do that; I was just asking.”

“Oh, of course.” The laugh coming through his speakers is a little too loud, the silence after a bit jarring. “Thank you again.”

“Consider this as me paying you back for shooting my portfolio.”

“But that was five years ago. You’ve made it up to me plenty of times, more than I can count.”

“I’m joking. Then consider this my Christmas gift to you.”

“That’s not fair, now I have to get one for you too,” Mingyu whines, Wonwoo imagining the frown and pout combination he’s so familiar with.

“And that’s for you to figure out.” A yawn interrupts him, whatever sentence he planned to say evaporating against the roof of his head, now heavy with sleep. “It’s late, I’m going to go to bed. Good night, Mingyu.”

“Good night! Sorry for bothering you again. I’ll send the details to you as soon as I can.”

With another slurred goodbye, Wonwoo closes the line, stifles another yawn before making his way to his room.

❆

Wonwoo buries his hand deeper into his pockets, hidden hot packs providing waves of warmth for his bare hands. In a feat of hurry caused by a lack of alarms, he’s somehow forgotten his gloves, laying unattended somewhere in his apartment’s foyer. It’s to his relief that the convenience store lived up to its name and gave Wonwoo a momentary solution to his predicament. A couple other hot packs sit in his bumbag, in the case he needs more of them.

He stops before the entrance of a cafe, fishing out his phone from his pocket to make sure the name on the glass matches the one on his screen. It does—but Wonwoo blinks with surprise anyway. His silhouette reflects off of the glass door, and even its vagueness doesn’t subdue the dishevelled mess his hair decided to settle in this morning.

Tempted to at least tame it down, Wonwoo stops when he hears footsteps behind him.

“Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo sends a pointed look at the astonishment in Soonyoung’s voice, “Hi.”

The curt reply has no effect on Soonyoung however, the crinkle of his eyes preceding the laughter spilling from his lips, abundant. Wonwoo has two guesses as to why his manager’s gripping his shoulder in the sake of balancing himself. Both of them sparking a throb in the forefront of his brain, the slight twitch of his lips.

“I’m surprised you’re not actually late.” Soonyoung scratches the side of his face, hands coming underneath his chin. He has a far too amused expression; It’s always been like this. “You’re really helpless sometimes, but I love your hair though.”

As he guessed, Soonyoung jabbed both good-hearted mockery at his face. “And you’re not going to fix it like you usually do?”

“I’m not here as your manager.” Soonyoung smacks Wonwoo, right in the middle of his back, force cushioned by Wonwoo’s puffer jacket. “And model Jeon Wonwoo spotted with unpresentable hair? Tough luck.” He repeated the motion twice, softer this time.

“Well about that— “

Soonyoung hushes him, hands frantic in front of Wonwoo’s face. “Save that for later, the place you chose looks nice! Let’s go in, I’m starving.”

Before Wonwoo could even utter a single syllable, the door chimed as it opens, Soonyoung trudging inside. With no option but to follow, Wonwoo barely stops the bundle of energy that is Soonyoung next to the cashier.

“I didn’t choose this place,” Wonwoo clarifies when he succeeded.

An eyebrow raised, Soonyoung shakes Wonwoo’s grip off of his sleeves. “What do you mean?”

No effort needs to be made on Wonwoo’s part to answer Soonyoung’s inquiry, for Mingyu’s voice is unmistakable even amidst the lunchtime bustle.

“Hyung!”

Mingyu’s waving his hands in the air, and Wonwoo’s too embarrassed to face Soonyoung’s second confused gaze.

“You brought me here to third-wheel on your date?” Soonyoung asks, incredulous.

“No!” Wonwoo coughs at the volume of his denial, the heat in his cheeks rushing his next words. “What made you think this is a date? We’re here to discuss a project, nothing else.”

“And here I thought you were actually asking me out on a friendly, business-free lunch.”

Wonwoo knows the slight rolling of Soonyoung’s eyes is of disappointment more than unadulterated distaste, so he sighs, defeated, and motions Soonyoung to Mingyu’s table. “I just need your help for some things, this isn’t a formal job.”

“You’re lucky I’m so fond of you, you bum.”

Soonyoung’s grumble from behind him dissipates completely when Wonwoo sees Mingyu patting the cushion beside him, smile only showing a mere fraction of the excitement seen on his texts last night.

“I’ve already ordered both of us drinks. Ah, but not for you though, hyung, sorry,” Mingyu says, not sounding sorry at all, hands busy fumbling with his leather bag.

“It’s fine.” Soonyoung’s smile must be hiding his gritted teeth, his legs colliding with Wonwoo’s shin under the table, all purpose and nothing unintentional. “I like it better when I order things on my own anyway, don’t mind me.”

“It’s my treat today, so save your reservations for another time okay.”

That seems to appease Soonyoung, now perusing through the pages of the menu before returning to read each page of the menu with more attention.

Wonwoo, however, almost misses Mingyu scooting closer to him. His eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, the younger’s hand reaches up, pats down parts of Wonwoo’s head imitating a dilapidated bird’s nest. The smell of Mingyu’s hand cream, the warmth of his skin brushing the tip of Wonwoo’s nose as Mingyu makes his last finishing touches—Wonwoo lets his senses jot these notes down, a familiar motion in an already carved out path. Recesses born from years of staying together, staying near but never too close.

“That’s better,” Mingyu remarks, satisfied. With a nod he resumes his previous task, setting his laptop on the table for ease of viewing.

Another kick from Soonyoung under the table and Wonwoo clears his throat. Wonwoo doesn’t think the cafe’s heater has contributed to the warmth dusting his cheeks, swirling in the pit of his stomach.

“Thank you.”

After all that’s done and over, drinks arrived and food cooking in the kitchen, Mingyu wastes no time in opening the necessary documents, undoubtedly wanting to have actual lunch.

“I need Wonwoo’s measurements for the suit,” he says, and though it’s unclear who he’s addressing, Soonyoung gets the cue.

“No problem, I have them on my phone.” Soonyoung takes over Mingyu’s laptop, having no trouble finding the needed information. Wonwoo notes to return him the favour someday.

“Thanks, Soonyoung,” says Wonwoo, the gratitude autonomous. Wonwoo only realises he’s said it when Soonyoung raises an eyebrow, an implicit _you owe me_.

“The details are more or less as I sent in the email. An evening shoot in Namsangol Hanok Village,” Mingyu pauses, “I know it said the 22nd on the email, but there’s been a few hold ups and the shoot will move to the 24th. Is that okay for you?”

Wonwoo nods as he sets down his mug, chrysanthemum floating to the surface of his tea. “I don’t have any other plans this month, but you know that.”

“I was just worried since it’s Christmas Eve, don’t want to interfere with any plans you have.”

“Well, you’re not.” Spending it with Mingyu is a far better plan than sitting alone in his apartment, half-cooked meal and a bad movie his only companions, anyway.

“I’ll have to sit this one down then. Made plans with my family for Christmas, it’s been a while.”

“Say hello to Seokmin for me,” Wonwoo says, to which Mingyu chips in with a ‘me too.’

It’s the first time Soonyoung looks reserved that day, but the smile on his face stops Wonwoo from saying anything. “I always do.” Soonyoung shrugs. “He’s excited for mom’s cooking. A shame that you both won’t be able to enjoy them.”

“I’ll make it up to you somehow,” Mingyu says and it takes a while for Wonwoo to register Mingyu’s inscribing this one as his fault.

“Mingyu.” Wonwoo glances towards Soonyoung, sees him looking away, but decides against it. “You don’t need to.”

The routes of Mingyu’s face shifts, plush snow falling on warm grounds, eyes curving downwards, smile the crackle of an open fire in winter.

Their conversation halted when their lunch arrives with impeccable timing, for Wonwoo doesn’t know what he’d say, what his hand, inching ever closer to Mingyu’s, would do. Wonwoo welcomes the distraction. At least, the steam of his soup makes an adequate excuse for the heat in his abdomen.

It does little to replace Mingyu’s warmth when the younger leaves due to an abrupt text from one of his staff, though. The feeling of lost immediate.

There’s another pressure on his legs, a soft nudge this time.

“You said no work until spring, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo shrugs, holds his face in his hand in an attempt to douse the persisting warmth. “I’m just helping a friend out.”

“Sure, you are.”

❆

Bursts of sunlight does nothing against the cold when Wonwoo fetches his mail downstairs. With his heater turned up and hot coffee brewing on the pot, Wonwoo sits down on the sofa.

He skips through several bank mails, letting them fall unto the floor, and only stops at a brown envelope. The smile forms before he’s aware of it, both Jisoo’s and Jeonghan’s name written artfully on the paper amplifying it.

Last time he’s seen the both of them, the brunt of summer was still causing their clothes to stick to their skins, electric fans and air conditioners their best friend, refrigerated watermelon cubes saccharine in their mouths. Wonwoo has an idea as to what they sent him; the opened invitation still displayed on his desk a token he treasures.

Wonwoo rips the envelope open. Careful as to not tear the photos waiting inside. The first photo is what he expects: the both of them standing in front of a breath-taking vista, ocean stretching out endlessly behind them, coral reefs visible underneath where the waves dip low enough for them to peak. Mingyu’s suggestion of their honeymoon place shines along with the setting sun behind them: an eco-resort snug in the ocean, nature more luxury than any five-star hotel could provide.

The pull of the first picture is nigh hypnotic, Jeonghan and Jisoo’s unbridled happiness along with the sunset glimmering in the waters below, in the skies above them, stirs something in Wonwoo, a tug in his chest. He smiles, despite his jumbled self.

What puts form to it comes later. And it does so with such fervency that Wonwoo has to set the photos down and collect himself, hiding himself from no one in an effort to let the sudden heat subside.

“What have I gotten myself into?” He asks to no one, words muffled by his palms, cold compared to his face.

A minute—or maybe an hour, Wonwoo isn’t sure—later, Wonwoo braves himself again. It wasn’t Jisoo or Jeonghan’s photo, nor the tender kissed shared between them that has his mind spluttering around as though he’s put in an embarrassing situation. Despite taken on their vacation, these are very much their wedding photography.

Wonwoo hasn’t given it much thought, and perhaps, in retrospect, he should have. The single thing he thought of was Mingyu, how he’d come to the younger’s aid if he’s able to, and this was no different. And when the younger offered himself as his photoshoot partner instead of anyone else, Wonwoo’s rationalisation says it must’ve been out of consideration. Perhaps it was—Mingyu’s painfully attentive that way. And yet a part of Wonwoo, sparking and imploding in a tangle of emotions, suggests a radically different idea.

Both has Wonwoo’s mind going on another tangent.

Blinking, Wonwoo glimpses at the photo once more before shifting his eyes elsewhere. His legs wobble once he gets up to grab his phone on his kitchen counter, heart an ensemble of echoing timbales. After he sent a text to Soonyoung about his predicament, feelings summarised in a very illustrative _help_ , Wonwoo sighs. The coldness of marble against his forehead dissipates the heat by a fraction.

Intimacy during photoshoots is at times demanded. Undoubtedly not his favourite thing but Wonwoo has done it a couple times before, took nothing out of it.

But this isn’t a job, isn’t it? And Mingyu’s no mere stranger, not someone he wouldn’t meet again in an unprofessional setting. Not someone he could just _touch_ and think nothing of without opening a canister of various stifled efforts and missed chances. Ah, there he goes again. Wonwoo thinks he’s too old for this, thinks it ridiculous of him to be so stricken about someone he’s been with for a good portion of his life.

Mingyu hasn’t even confirmed he’s going to be Wonwoo’s partner. There’s no need to be so worked up, he chastises himself. All of this is nothing but nonsensical, childish worrying—the accident of falling for him was his mistake alone.

❆

Pulling up to the shooting location, Wonwoo has almost quelled all of worries. _Almost_. He discovers that his mind is ingenious when it comes to Mingyu, more so than anything else. Of course, none of it would have happened if it wasn’t for the spark that was Jisoo and Jeonghan’s honeymoon photos. But Wonwoo’s only giving in to his own thoughts, and there’s only a minute left before he would be considered late.

He opens his door, coat the only buffer between him and the cold. A staff’s waiting for him by one of the Hanoks, waves him over when she spots him and ushers him towards the dressing room.

With Mingyu’s meticulous direction, Wonwoo expects the fitting to proceed without a hitch, and it does, Wonwoo only needing to wait for his make up to be done before he needs to brave the cold again. Barely a minute into it, thrilled whispers erupt from behind him. Wonwoo looks up from his phone, curiosity piqued, the mirror in front of him allowing him a clear view of the commotion.

It turns to be his first mistake of the day.

Mingyu’s walking up behind him, hair half-slicked to the side, midnight blue suit portraying a side of him unprecedented to Wonwoo; before this, it’s always been loose shirts and jeans, ruffled hair and bare face when he’s with Wonwoo, or nothing but sweatpants, even, in more vulnerable instances. His face lights up when he meets Wonwoo’s eyes through the mirror.

The seconds where Wonwoo could only see Mingyu dilates, prolonged with every sporadic thump in his chest. Mingyu’s always been a cool summer breeze, the comforting rustle of sheets after a long day—but this time, it’s different. The thought of him shaping up in a more heated form.

Wonwoo’s thoughts cease their rather extraneous jaunt when there’s pressure around his shoulders, Mingyu circling an arm around him.

“You look great.” Mingyu’s hand travels downwards, dusting the front of Wonwoo’s suit, fixing his tie. “Thank you again, for agreeing to do this.” His hand perches back on Wonwoo’s shoulder, a squeeze. “I owe you a lot.”

“I told you, it’s always my pleasure to help you.” His eyes stray to the white boutonnière on Mingyu’s suit, another realisation dawning. “Are you modelling too?”

“Remember the urgent thing I needed to do when we had lunch?” Mingyu waits for Wonwoo’s confirmation before proceeding, sheepish. “Well, the model who’s supposed to be your partner couldn’t make it. I suggested it during our first call, so I didn’t think of telling you again, I’m sorry, but yes. I’ll be your partner today.”

“Okay.” A gulp concealed as a nod. His mind races to form a sentence. “I…I look forward to working with you.”

Tides of laughter tumble out of Mingyu’s lips before reducing into giggles. “What’s with you today? You’re so awkward.”

Wonwoo sighs, doesn’t answer Mingyu’s inquiry to instead elbow the younger, to which the younger backs down, muttering a small sorry. Mingyu leaves Wonwoo to his own devices then, smile plastered on his lips until he’s out of sight.

The process moves faster after that, Wonwoo primed and ready for the shoot not long after Mingyu left. Delivering a thanks to the hairdresser, Wonwoo stands to move outdoors, wringing his hands numbed by both anticipation and apprehension along the way.

When he steps outside, his breath comes out in wisps of white, late afternoon air turning colder by the second. The individual shoot will be first, to Wonwoo’s own relief. He hopes it’s enough time to gather his bearings, to calm the whirr of his heart, shove it somewhere it won’t rear its head. What he’s worried of is not set-in stone yet anyway.

Wonwoo slips in to the shoot with practiced ease once the photographer directs him to the set, mind free from any straying thoughts as he switches from one pose to another, one expression to another. Even though Mingyu’s watching him from a distance, Wonwoo’s unperturbed for the most part. The shoot finished, unsurprisingly, without a hitch.

“That wraps it for your individual shoot, let’s continue with the next segment.”

Those words bounce around in Wonwoo’s mind, a rubber ball within glass encasing. His emotions are everything but placid, and yet when Mingyu saunters up to him with a small smile, he couldn’t help but smile back.

“Ready?” Mingyu asks and Wonwoo’s unsure if the question’s directed for him or for Mingyu himself. The crease on Mingyu’s smile unusual.

Wonwoo nods and takes Mingyu’s hand when he offers it, following the directions they’re given. It’s both, Wonwoo surmises; the question is for both of them. Mingyu’s hand’s a tad bit damp, more than it usually is.

They both start out rather slow, adapting to each other’s presence in a way they never did before. Wonwoo’s encountered the process many times, with every new shoot, with every new partner. But Mingyu eases himself into Wonwoo’s tempo in a way only years of familiarity allows him too.

The first few prompts are quite easy: walking hand in hand down the path where the trees gather in an alcove, smiles genuine, hands lacing together as they did often times; they run at one point, Mingyu’s excitement coalescing with Wonwoo’s own. Wonwoo notes everything as he does every other instance with the younger. Something new, something familiar, everything _Mingyu_.

A couple compliments are thrown their way, courtesy of their photographer. Though it should have incited something, the request to get closer doesn’t faze Wonwoo and gauging through his expression, it does not for Mingyu as well.

Instead, Wonwoo wonders if Mingyu’s thoughts are reflecting his. For when Mingyu’s hand slid around his waist, the warmth of his hand pulling Wonwoo in, Wonwoo’s head reels with an intent; an overwhelming want to keep Mingyu close, closer.

Along with the first fall of snow, they’re asked to stay that way, eyes finding home in one another. Wonwoo allows a sliver of his want out. Hands secure around Mingyu’s forearms, as though he was his own. And as if in response, Mingyu’s fingers curl on his back, digging but not painful, thrumming a rhythm Wonwoo has no knowledge of.

“Good, keep staring at each other like that.”

This Wonwoo does with ease, upwards tug of his lips almost instinctual. A painting from some time in the past flashes in Wonwoo’s mind: the city lights reflecting in Mingyu’s eyes an enchanting display and when Mingyu turns to look at him back then, Wonwoo’s lips ran dry, afraid. It’s all the same now. Even though Wonwoo wishes for something else, he’s sated with only getting lost somewhere in Mingyu.

But how naive of him to think they’ve stayed stagnant since then. Wonwoo’s second mistake of the day is believing this won’t change a single thing, won’t cause a shift in their already indefinable relationship.

“Let’s try a kiss this time.”

Wonwoo’s ears ring. His previous distress returning with a shiver from the cold, hands falling off of Mingyu’s forearm.

“What?” Mingyu sputters, breath puffing out in cold vapour.

If Wonwoo isn’t in a position where he’d be subjected by the request in a few moments, he would laugh. Mingyu’s the director, he should know how his team works and yet the stunned look marring his face says he doesn’t.

“A kiss!” The photographer shouts, face already on the viewfinder again, poised to shoot.

Wonwoo wonders if this was intentional, their photographer a complicit in a plan both of them are unaware of.

They have no time to spare. The snow would only fall harder in the following hours, the last rays of sunlight will leave them sooner than later. Wonwoo faces Mingyu again to find the younger’s gaze on him, unwavering despite his hesitance, curve of his eyebrows gentle, patient.

Seems like Mingyu has gotten over his turmoil faster than Wonwoo’s able to. Then again, Wonwoo has been agonizing over this since yesterday, since years ago.

“Hyung,” Mingyu starts, left hand sliding back around Wonwoo’s waist, “are you okay with doing this?”

Although Wonwoo’s immediate answer is one of assent, nothing comes out of his parted lips, words stuck in his throat. One, single thing he’s sure of; he doesn’t want reluctance to cause him defeat anymore. A gulp. A decision solidifying.

Nodding his head, Wonwoo steps forward, eliminating the countless years he’s floated in this state. “Yes.”

It’s Mingyu who leans in first, reaction to Wonwoo’s response imperceptible. His breath curls against Wonwoo’s face. “Okay,” he whispers, warm and unnecessary.

Any reserve Wonwoo has previous to this moment vanishes when Mingyu’s nose slide next to his. Touching but not quite, Mingyu giving Wonwoo the reign. Wonwoo’s lost countless hours over this single, almost foolish wish of his and at the face of it, all his concern proves for naught. Space and situation not allowing him to have second thoughts.

Wonwoo leans up, tilts his head to meet Mingyu’s in a slow brushing of their lips. Both of them stayed at that point for a while, prodding, allowing themselves to adjust without regards to anything around them. Wonwoo closes the gap.

The slight caress of evening sunlight on his cheeks pales compared to the heat surging from his chest, from Mingyu’s lips. And Wonwoo revels in it, no longer under the mercy of coldness and himself as his mind repeats Mingyu’s name like a hymn; Mingyu, Mingyu—Mingyu smiles into the kiss.

If not for the photographer hollering praise at them, shattering the illusion for the both of them, Wonwoo doesn’t know where they would go. If they’d venture somewhere else.

“Wonwoo?” It’s concern lacing his name.

A meeting of the eyes, before Wonwoo averts his, abashed. He hums, afraid of what he is—or isn’t—capable of saying.

Even now, Mingyu takes the chance to brush snow out of Wonwoo’s hair, careful. “It’s nothing.”

As Wonwoo changes back into his clothes, buzz of warmth never leaving the back of his ears, the situation catches up to him with surprising sobriety. He sits on the stool of the dressing room and leans against the wall. The warmth rooted in his chest blooming to his face, his head.

Someone’s knocking on the door, once, twice, and Wonwoo wavers, knowing full well who’s behind the wooden barrier. A couple while passes before his legs regain some sense of autonomy, carrying him to the door.

“Are you done?” Mingyu smiles, walks in to close the door behind him when Wonwoo moves aside. He’s already back to a shirt and jeans, hair mussed down.

“Almost, I need to hang the suit.”

“Let me do it.” Mingyu’s already moving towards the pile of clothes Wonwoo’s lain on top of the stool.

Wonwoo doesn’t halt him, mind scrambling to form any coherent thought, but it fails rather spectacularly; the silhouette of Mingyu’s back as he does the mundane task distracting. In a burst of sudden confidence in spite of his still unsorted dilemma, Wonwoo walks closer and stops just behind Mingyu.

His hand finds home on Mingyu’s waist, a reversal from earlier, and Wonwoo calls, soft, stopping Mingyu in his task. “Mingyu.”

Perhaps a part of him expects a bitter refusal, thinking it’s better than one where Mingyu calls him how he usually does, aim all but declination. Mingyu’s silence drapes between them. And Wonwoo—Wonwoo’s initial resolve dwindles the longer it stays. Wonwoo sees his fingers tremble rather than feel it, and so he caves, attempts to draw his hand back in.

Just as the cold buds in Wonwoo’s fingers when he lifts them, it disappears, Mingyu’s hand engulfing his.

“Your hand is cold.” Mingyu tightens his hold, tugs Wonwoo forward while turning. His unoccupied hand fetches Wonwoo’s other, clasping both of them as though without intention of letting go. “Your hands are always cold.”

Wonwoo presses his lips together, the proximity taking a moment to register in his head. The whirl of emotions that has embedded itself in his chest since hours ago bubbles in a crescendo. It rises until Wonwoo can’t hold it anymore, eliciting a misplaced laugh from him.

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo attempts to say in his fit, head flopping on Mingyu’s chest. “It’s just—I don’t even know what to say.”

The rumble on the crown of his head has Wonwoo looking up, finding Mingyu with an amused smile, the last of his chuckle leaving his lips.

“You and me both.” Mingyu lets go of Wonwoo’s hands, opting to push a stray hair from Wonwoo’s face, hands never leaving his face after. “But one thing I do know is that we’ve been putting this off for quite a while, haven’t we?”

Glancing at Mingyu’s hand through the periphery of his vision, Wonwoo smiles, leans in. “Maybe. Depends on what you mean by this and by quite a while.”

“Fine. We’ve been floating around each other for a _long_ time.” A defeated sigh and a brush of Mingyu’s thumb, feel of skin leaving goosebumps. “I thought I’ve been obvious.”

“What? That’s— “ Wonwoo huffs, baffled. “I thought _I_ have been obvious.”

Mingyu pulls him in again, Wonwoo’s head near his neck but this time, it’s Mingyu who’s hiding his face, laughter bouncing off of Wonwoo’s skin. “We’ve both been idiots, then.” Mingyu raises his face, nose barely an inch from Wonwoo’s. “But that’s fine.”

The query for permission is silent this time, Mingyu's eyes searching for an answer in Wonwoo’s. When he finds it, Mingyu closes the gap between them, lips soft and warm, steadier than before. He’s smiling again and no one’s here to interrupt them anymore. They stop for a breath, never straying far.

“I wish we stopped being idiots sooner.”

Wonwoo doesn’t respond but returns to their previous feat, far more confident now. He pushes forward, an attempt to erase any space between them, if there was even any left. Mingyu’s back hits the wall. The dull thump doesn’t register even once in Wonwoo’s mind, too preoccupied with the heat radiating from Mingyu’s response.

None of them minded the change of positions. Mingyu’s lips start to feel bruising against his, as though trying to make up for the years they’ve been what they described: _idiots_. Wonwoo feels Mingyu’s hands travel southwards, stopping for a moment on his waist before one continues to hook itself underneath his leg, tugging closer. A sound escapes Wonwoo’s lips.

That seems to spur Mingyu even further, the younger a tad bit too eager in his exploration. Pain sprouts from one point of Wonwoo’s lips. Another sound comes out of his mouth, more surprised than pained. Mingyu takes it as the latter and nearly jumps.

“I’m sorry,” He exclaims, repeating it two more times before settling down. His thumb brushes Wonwoo’s lips, eyes searching for any point of wound.

Wonwoo huffs out a laugh and circles his fingers around the younger’s wrist. “It’s fine.” He brushes the furrow in Mingyu’s eyebrows next, smoothing out the skin until there’s no wrinkle left, caressing his temple as an after measure. “We should get going. We’re technically still at work.”

Mingyu’s eyebrow shoots up at the reminder. “Right.”

Moving to grab the suit and his bag, Wonwoo flicks Mingyu along the way. “You’re the director, Mingyu.”

“Right,” he repeats, flustered. “I’ll go and wrap everything up in a bit. I’ll see you at the parking lot?”

An idea pops up in Wonwoo’s mind as he nods. “Did you drive here?” Wonwoo waits until the younger answers, and it’s what he expected.

“I took the subway, why?”

Perfect. “I’ll drive you home.”

“Wait hyung, I said I’ll make it up to you for taking away most of your Christmas Eve. And also, I owe you a Christmas gift in return for this.” Mingyu fishes his phone out of his pockets, scrolling. “How about we go get warmer somewhere?”

“I’d say you don’t have to that but.” Wonwoo bunches up his shoulder, tired of pushing away. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“I was thinking we should go get dinner somewhere. Or well, we could cook at my house if you’d prefer that.” Mingyu returns his phone, makes his way towards the door, hand enclosing on the knob.

“I’d like that,” Wonwoo smiles into his answer. “Cooking at your house, I mean.”

“Great.” Mingyu all but grins, delighted as though he got his Christmas present already. “What do you want to eat?”

“Mmmh, anything you want.” Wonwoo blinks when his mind halted to inform him of a suggestion. It’s not as risky as it might have been a couple hours ago. “I want my favourite for breakfast tomorrow, though.”

Wonwoo can almost see the process Mingyu goes through: an eyebrow raising at the seemingly out of place suggestion; his slight frown as he repeats Wonwoo’s sentence in his head; the slight gaping of his mouth when he comprehends; and finally, the soft curve of his lips, eyes holding a gentler gaze.

“It’ll be my pleasure to cook for you.” _Anytime_ , goes unsaid, but Wonwoo knows Mingyu is on the same wavelength as him for this one.

They bid their momentary goodbyes, Wonwoo heading straight to his car and turning the engine on, waiting for Mingyu. He checks his phone to find a message from Soonyoung. There’s a picture of his family dinner, along with the inquiry of how his shoot went.

Wonwoo feels the rather smug smile forming, sending Soonyoung a rather ambiguous text of: “everything went fine; better than fine, actually.” He could picture Soonyoung’s vexation at his answer, but he’s satisfied with it. Not letting Soonyoung know his predictions pertaining to Wonwoo and Mingyu turned out to be correct should be considered Wonwoo’s victory.

After a minute of being left alone with the ever-falling snow and his own musings, his door opens. In goes Mingyu, bits of snowflake sticking to his jacket and bag, it doesn’t at all dim the beam of his smile, though.

“All ready?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu answers then stops. He leans over the gear and towards Wonwoo, breath fanning over Wonwoo’s face before his lips find home on the corner of his lips. “I’m all ready now.”

Wonwoo sees this as the younger trying to slow down. He’s always known Mingyu’s affectionate, but he’s also always known that no matter the circumstance, Mingyu knows when to stop, far too considerate to ever cross him.

When the thrill of entering something new grips Mingyu like it does him for any other thing, Wonwoo would catch the younger before he stumbles, tell Mingyu they have time to make up for the years behind them.

It took two accidents for them to get here, he would remind him, and both are cherished—their love is never accidental, after all.

❆

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to give everyone a little gift before the year ends. Hope the last days of the year treat everyone well, please stay warm, stay safe, stay healthy! Happy holidays and merry christmas ♡ hope to see everyone soon with another fic :)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/9yuwoo)


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